Sunset on Tuesday, a Poem


Four-Thirty in the Afternoon

The Sun is Dead

The Dark Blue Sky

with a Few Reddened Clouds

Became a Charcoal, Burned to Redness

sunset 的圖片結果the skies, painted red like this…photo from online

This poet had, painted the picturesque of the dying light illuminating from the western skies at sunset with her words, so very vivid…


Springtime is Here, a Poem

A picturesque scene, painted by these words, translated…

The Lotus Leaves Decorated the Stream

The Poet from the T’ang Dynasty Fu Du’s Summer’s Start Hadn’t Arrived Yet


查看來源圖片the flowers blooming…phoot from online…

It’s Still Springtime

Let’s Just be Like the Poem of Shih Su

The Warmed Spring Streams, Known only to the Ducks

the signs of springtime…photo from online…

The Ducks Came to Visit the Crisp Green Lotus Leaves

to Visit that Lost Painting

Who Had, Entered into the Treks of Time at the Wrong Time

and Hidden Oneself

Spring is the starting point, the renewal of life, and sometimes, these new forces of life just, take a little extra time, to pop out of the ground, like how those budding plants don’t flower overnight?

Mom’s Book of Stories

The legacy you’re, leaving for your children, the most priceless of all possessions, and it still wasn’t measured by those dollars or cents! Translated…

As I learned that I could go to Taipei to attend the Mobile Creations Awards ceremonies, I’d invited my youngest son who is studying in Chiayi to come along. My youngest also took his leave of absence from his work in the cram schools to accompany me. Other than being proud as his mother, mostly, he’d wanted to see who the judges are. Seeing how excited I was, he’d asked, “Did you sort through your articles? If you’re gone, then, the articles would be gone too!”

I’m already used to my son’s insulting ways, and hearing how he was concerned, I was, glad over that; finally someone had, thought about this, I’d replied, “All my articles are, classified, and I’d placed them all inside the cabinets.”

Many years ago, I’d told my son, “I can’t leave you any money when I’m gone, I’d only written the stories from when you guys were little, after you read them, you would know, how trying it was, for me, to raise you guys up.” As I’d spoken these words, my son let them pass through his ears, but today, he’d, mentioned it without me asking!

Back when I’d started to write, I’d wanted to capture my son’s aging processes, and, I’d wanted to earn a little more money for food on the tables. As I wrote, I’d added in the encounters I had at the local marketplaces, and the interesting things that’s happened in my parents as well as my in-law’s homes, and the fool I’d made of myself from work back when, and naturally, something stupid my husband had done as well.

And, my family took the “quieter approach to what I put down”, and there was only one faithful fan, who got all excited about everything I’d written, my dear old mom—every time I’d read my writings to her, she’d always laughed hard, commented, “Such wonderful proses!”

Last year I’d started working again, and entered in the line of workers in the nursing homes, and wrote down my stories with the elderly folks I’d worked with at the home, and my classmate, “Bull” read, left the message, “You now have more stories to write on.”

But, I’m, aged, and, as I’d gotten home from work, I’d become, way too fatigued, to start writing, but I’d wanted to leave the markings, and so, I’d written few lines on FB, thought, that I’ll sort through them eventually sometime in the future!

But, because I had a closed fracture of my femur last month, I can only take my leave of absence and stay home and rest, and now, I get to have the time, to pass in front of the computer screens, now, the inheritance for my son had the “elderly and mom” stories filed in.

And so, this woman documented her own life with her writings, and, she will keep on writing, and leave this legacy of her own memories to her own children to have after she is dead and gone, and, I’m sure, that in the futures, as her children read their mother’s writing, they will discover a side of their mother they never knew existed.

Shadow, to My Stray Cat, a Poem

The interaction of a cat with the person who’d given her a home, translated…

Her Eyes, Green Like that Fire

A Ghostly Kind of a Fire, with Pure Black Coat

the Kind that’s in the Marianna Seas

So Dark that Stars Glowed from it

查看來源圖片with the piercing eyes, photo from online…

I Should Call Her Green, Like the Month of April

or Black

a Sort of a Lacking

She’d Made Me Feel Lacking

Coming & Going Like the Shadows

Quietly, Against the Walls

here’s a black cat with its owner…photo from online…

Or Maybe, She’s Just the Lightning in Film

Never Really, Real

But Today, She’d Come Rubbed Herself Up Against My Bosoms

Wanted Some Affections

She’d Even Given Me Her Throat——

She’d Bite Down on Me, She Knew, that I Wasn’t Afraid, of Getting Bitten by Her

So, there’s, this strong trust between the owner and the cat, and, as we may already know, that cats, unlike dogs, are more independent, and because the poet had given this stray cat a home, and this is the way she’d shown her gratitude toward him…

Dedicated to the Owls, a Poem in Three Lines

How closely linked are the animals to their natural habitats, translated…

Using the Sounds and Echoes of the Fogs————

Awakening, the Raw

Forest that Loves You So

illustration from online…查看來源圖片

This is how interrelated a wild animal is to its habitat, and yet, the habitats are currently being destroyed by deforestation, and soon, these critters won’t have a place to call home anymore…








Domesticating Springtime, a Poem in Three Lines

The imageries are truly, amazing in this one, translated…

I Want to Keep You in a Golden Basin

to Collect the Dews from the Grasses, Like a Pair of Quietest Birds

the Kind that Slowly, Drinks Up, the Words that are, Only Spoken by the Springtime

where spring is kept…photo from online…查看來源圖片

But, you can’t, keep springtime forever, it’s going to end, and all you can do, is to take advantage of the time you share with it, because that, is how the cycles of life works, like with our pets, or those we love too!

Six in the Morning, a Poem

The first to wake the world up, putting what little animation, back into, this sleepy world here, translated…

The Snow Covered Ground, that Nobody Stepped on Yet

Inhaled in ALL the Lights Left Over from Last Night

Became Bright

like this, maybe???  Photo from online…

at This Time, a Man in a Thick Coat and Heavy Boots

was Led Across by His Dog

So, you can imagine this scene, where the ground is covered with snow, and then, something that made the scene come to life: it’s a dog, out with its owner, doing the morning rounds…